


A Peculiar Partnership

by Ash_and_Ember



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: McGonagall is a badass, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, everyone is against umbridge, the weasley twins get to be the main characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-04-25 21:11:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14387205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_and_Ember/pseuds/Ash_and_Ember
Summary: Dumbledore's Army trains in secret to learn defensive magic not allowed by Umbridge. That's all well and fine, but sometimes open defiance is needed. And sometimes friends are found in the most unexpected places.





	1. Chapter 1

Hogwarts woke up one morning to find the wall opposite the doors of the Great Hall to be cleared of portraits. In their place was a small wooden frame hung in the middle of the wall, barely illuminated by the sconces on the far ends of the wall. Upon closer inspection and better lighting, it was revealed to be an Educational Decree. It seemed as though Umbridge was trying to increase her control over the students. 

Students filed in for breakfast, whispering to each other about the new decree. How did she get this new power? What was she hoping to accomplish? Did she fail a test to be an Animagus, and that’s why she looks like a toad?

Indeed, she looked more toad-like this morning than usual. Perhaps it was the new, garishly pink hat perched precariously atop her head and what she clearly thought was a jaunty angle. Perhaps it was due to the smug smile on her face as she looked down on everyone seated at the House tables. 

Hermione flung herself onto the bench at the Gryffindor table next to Ron. 

“Can you believe that woman,” she hissed. “The nerve of her, trying to run this school.” She shot a venomous look towards the table where all the teachers sat. 

“She does seem to be getting worse lately,” Ron agreed, piling sausage on his plate. 

“The nerve of her.” Hermione repeated. 

“But I thought you didn’t like Spell-Check Quills, Hermione,” Seamus added from a few seats down the table..

She twisted to face him, butter knife clenched in one hand. “It doesn’t matter if I like them or not, it’s the principle of the thing! Umbridge has no right to make this decree. These quills are incredibly helpful for students with dyslexia! It helps them write, and can make them feel better about themselves. It can be a huge confidence booster. I don’t like how some people try to use them to cheat. Why bother memorizing names, terms, and potions ingredients when the Quill will correct you if you get close enough? It’s not fair!” She stopped talking abruptly, noticing the slightly scared expressions on the faces of those around her. She flushed red and lowered the butter knife to the table. “Sorry, I just…”

Fred leaned over from where he was sitting, further down. “D’you mind saying that a bit louder, Hermione? I don’t think my Uncle Alfred in Wales quite heard you.”

Hermione flushed even redder as Fred sat down beside her, pushing Ron out of the way. Ron made an indignant noise of protest, but couldn’t get Fred to move. 

“You’re too… you to be complaining loudly about things, Hermione. Can’t have Umbridge suspecting you more than she already does, or it’ll be bad for DA.” Fred spoke quietly enough that only Hermione could hear him, and had his face turned away from the Head Table. “The new educational decree is bad, but you aren’t the person to be fighting it. The whole point of it seems to be creating more rules, so the best way to fight it, is by breaking them. My talents happen to be uniquely suited to this task. Have a lovely morning.” Fred stood up as abruptly as he had sat down, and engaged in an intense conversation with George a little ways down the table.  
Hermione looked baffled, but didn’t say anything. The bafflement was replaced by her Thinking Face, the one that caused teachers to brace for difficult questions, and prompted Ron to move anything breakable out of arm’s reach. When Hermione had her Thinking Face, it was best to give her a quill and parchment, and brace for impact. Tension fell over their section of the table. Everyone watched Hermione with trepidation, most of all Ron and Harry. The rest of the Great Hall faded away as they waited with bated breath to see what Hermione would do next. Seamus was gripping Dean’s hand under the table and Neville looked frightened.  
Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it, reaching for the basket of fruit in front of her. Her fellow fifth years exchanged puzzled looks. This never happened. Where was the rant? Where were the quotes spoken verbatim from an obscure legal case from the 1500s? 

“What are you all looking at?” Hermione asked.

Everyone quickly looked away from her, and became more focused on their breakfasts than they had been on the Potions test last week. 

Harry and Ron had spoken at the same time.  
“Oh, um, nothing.”  
“Malfoy?” 

Hermione shrugged, “Fred was right. I can organize DA, but he can create monumental levels of chaos. We just have to support him in whatever he does.” 

George didn’t go to classes that day. He knew he’d get in trouble for it later, but he had more important things to do. He had to go to the library.  
He had hoped that Madam Pince wouldn’t be at her desk when he came in, but that hope was quickly dashed. 

“Good morning! How is my favorite librarian today?”

She looked suspicious. “Why aren’t you in class, Mr. Weasley?” 

George exuded pure confidence. “Oh, I’m doing research for a class. Flitwick wanted me to research the benefits of using Charms over Transfiguration in certain circumstances. I need at least two historical examples of wizards using advanced Charms in place of Transfiguration spells.” 

A deep frown line creased her brow. “Why wasn’t this homework, to be done on your own time?”

He gave what he hoped was a winning smile. “I was speaking with him before class, and the topic came up. He sent me here to do my research now. You know how Professor Flitwick can’t let go of a fascinating topic.” 

Madam Pince’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Interesting topic to be discussing. You know, Professor McGonagall wrote a series of essays on the advantages of different forms of magic. I have the anthology in my office. She has a free period right now, if you’d like to discuss with her…”  
“  
Wait!” George cried. “I, uh, don’t want to talk to Professor McGonagall until I really know what I’m talking about. I need to research first, then I’ll go talk to her.”

The librarian sighed. She muttered a few words, waving her wand, and conjured a chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Weasley.” 

George sat.

“I’ve indulged you long enough. Why are you here?”

George sighed. “I really am doing research. But it’s for a personal project. It’s…” he dropped his voice. “We’re planning against Umbridge.”

Madam Pince stood up, vanishing the chair as she did so. George fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs and robes. “Carry on. If you need any help, I’ll be in my office, or reshelving in the Restricted Section. ”

Hardly daring to believe his luck, George disappeared off into the stacks. There had to be something in one of the advanced charms books to help them. After the first rounds of small explosions, and accidental eyebrow removal when creating their Wizard Wheezes, the twins had realized preliminary research before testing products wasn’t the worst idea. 

 

At DA meetings, meals, and in the common room, the Weasley twins were carefully sowing the seeds of chaos. Vials of a bluish liquid with instructions printed on the side made their way through the ranks of the students. No one except the twins understood how it worked, but they knew if they added a few drops of the potion to their ink and said the incantation to activate it, their essays would look like they had been written by a madman. The results weren’t uniform, making the effects even worse. 

A week later, Umbridge had a stack of unreadable essays on her desk. Some were written in different languages, sometimes words would move around like portraits, there was one written in iambic pentameter, and one paper that wouldn’t stop speaking its contents in a thick Dublin accent. She had tried to Summon all Spell-Check quills, but none turned up. As far as she could tell, all of her students were using normal quills, but putting a lot of misguided work into their homework. 

When the sixth years came in to class, they found vividly red quills lying on each of their desks, and Umbridge standing at the front of the room, a small smile on her face. 

“Settle down class,” she simpered. “While I was trying to grade your essays on the theoretical advantages of non-verbal spells, I encountered a few small issues. It seems as though the decree banning Spell-Check Quills is being willfully ignored. You all thought it would be amusing to purposefully use faulty quills to write your essays. This rulebreaking will not be tolerated. You must all rewrite your papers now, with quills I have provided for you. You may not use your books or notes, so I hope you have all prepared yourselves. Wands will not be necessary. Begin.”

There was a great rustling noise as everybody in the class dug through their bags to find ink. Many of them were muttering to themselves, either reciting all they knew about non-verbal spells, or words that really shouldn’t be muttered in a classroom.  
Soon enough, the scratching of quills on parchment was the only sound that filled the air. Umbridge walked up and down the rows of desks, watching what every student was doing. She spent more time hovering of Fred’s shoulder than of any other student. 

Towards the end of class, Fred finally snapped. “Look, Professor. I understand that it must be hard for you to be a professor and a Ministry official without being able to read, but there are better ways for you to learn. Go talk to Madam Pince, I’m sure she can help you out.” He was looking up at her, an open, honest expression on his face. All the fury and frustration was well hidden behind a mask of calm. 

The classroom fell dead silent. Every single student was staring at the pair, not daring the breathe or blink. A vein in Umbridge’s forehead was pulsing. Her mouth gaped open, fishlike, as she struggled to find words. 

“Get. Out. Of. My. Class.” she ground out. “Go. McGonagall. Your essay. Finished.” she wrenched the parchment out from underneath Fred’s arm, and stormed to the front of the room. She was too angry to notice the words start to subtly shift and move.  
The door closed behind Fred with a soft snick as he left. Umbridge addressed the class again. “You will complete your assignments in silence. No one is to speak or move until class is over.” She sat at her desk, face still flushed and breathing heavily. Fred’s paper lay on the corner of her desk, forgotten.

It was lucky that McGonagall wasn’t teaching this period. Fred couldn’t imagine telling her this story in front of a class. It was scary enough talking to her alone. He paused for a moment before knocking on the door to her office. 

“Come in,” she called.”

Fred slowly pushed the door open, hesitant as he walked in. “Good afternoon, Professor. May I sit down?” He gestured vaguely to the area in front of her desk, hand trembling ever so slightly. 

“You may, Mr. Weasley,” she responded. “But why are you here, and not in class?” She gazed at him coolly, fingers steepled in front of her mouth. 

“Ah. About that. You see, I had a slight disagreement with one of my other professors. Some harsh words were spoken, and I was asked to leave the class. And now I find myself here.”

Professor McGonagall’s expression hardened. “Which professor? And what exactly was said by whom?”

Fred looked up, his eyes meeting hers. “Umbridge. I told her that if she wanted to finally learn how to read, there are better ways than standing over my shoulder watching me write an essay on non-verbal spells.”

McGonagall stared. Fred didn’t move. The soft ticking of a clock on her desk was the only sound in the office. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I see,” she said finally. “And what was her reaction?”

“Um well, she couldn’t speak for a few moments. Then she threw me out of class. ”

“Wait here a moment, will you?” She left the room in a swirl of robes, leaving Fred there in absolute shock. He didn’t know how much trouble he was in. She hadn’t looked as angry as she usually did when she reprimanded him. But she had never left him alone in her office, either. Was she getting Dumbledore? Was she getting Filch, who would hang him from his thumbs in a dungeon? Worst off all, was she somehow bringing his mother here? That thought brought a sheen of cold sweat to his body. His leg bounced furiously. He couldn’t have stopped the movement if he had tried. 

As it turns out, none of those things. She returned carrying a small box under her arm. Fred thought he could make out the Honeydukes logo on it, but there was no way there was actually chocolate in it. It would be like the cookie tin in his house that actually held his mother’s knitting supplies. Maybe this was where Filch kept his thumbscrews. In a Honeydukes box, not to arouse suspicion. 

She set it down carefully on the desk, and Fred broke out in a cold sweat. Something awful had to happen now. Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk, hands folded, a severe look on her face. 

“Mr. Weasley,” she began. “What you said to Professor Umbridge was unacceptable. While her behavior might not have been the most appropriate, you still should not have spoken to her in that manner.”

“But, Professor—”

McGonagall held up a hand. “However much you dislike one of your professors, you still owe them basic courtesy and respect. As your Head of House, it is my duty to make sure you are acting like a proper young man. I think it is safe to believe that Professor Umbridge send you here to make sure you were properly punished.”  
Her intense gaze softened the barest touch. “However, I am not going to give you detention until the end of your seventh year. While you known as prankster, I know that you and George are both bright. You don’t normally do things like this, and I trust that this won’t happen again. Your subversion of the rules is usually much cleverer. Consider my disappointment as sufficient punishment.”

Fred swallowed thickly. He was reminded very strongly of his mother. He looked at the desk, unable to meet McGonagall’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Professor,” he said. “I acted rashly, and it won’t happen again.”

“Good.” She pushed the box towards him. “Chocolate?”

Much to Fred’s surprise, the box actually did contain chocolates from Honeydukes. He took one, albeit a bit warrily. 

McGonagall took one for herself. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve heard Professor Umbridge complaining recently about unreadable homework assignments. This seems like exactly the kind of thing you and George would be behind.”

“Um, yes. We can stop, if you want.” he said hurriedly. 

McGonagall waved the hand holding the chocolate lazily. “It’s actually rather clever. Managing to take all of the glitches in Spell-Check Quills, then somehow enchant ink to enact the glitches? That is no small feat of magic. How’d you do it?”

Fred perked up with excitement. While he might not be the most diligent student, he loved talking about the magic behind his inventions. “First we stripped the layers of enchantments off Spell-Check Quills to examine them individually. We needed to see what made them work, before we could find the problems. There’s a lot of really cool stuff behind the seemingly simplistic idea. The problems the arise after long use is because the bindings between the individual spells. It’s like, a, um, a clock!” His hands danced around excitedly as he explained. “The little cogs and gears hold everything together, but they need to be cleaned are repaired every so often, right? But there’s no way to reinforce the bindings, so things break down, and in a very specific way. George and I figured out how they fail, and then made them fail in spectacular ways. From there, it was simple enough to put the intentionally faulty enchantments on ink.” 

“Fascinating,” McGonagall breathed. “That is truly remarkable. Reverse engineering the spells, the scientific process of observation… You could have a bright future. As long as you keep doing this, practicing, I see no end to the ingenious things you could invent. If you ever need any guidance or advice, please don’t hesitate to come to me.  
She pushed the box of chocolates towards Fred again. “Take one for your twin, why don’t you? Classes will be ending soon, you may head back to your dorm instead of going back to class.”

He couldn’t have been given a clearer dismissal. Fred grabbed one of the raspberry truffles for George, and left the office. He walked back to the common room in a daze. He wasn’t to waste away in detention, writing lines, nor was he to be hung from his thumbs in one of the dungeons. And if he had understood the conversation correctly, McGonagall had given her blessing to their troublemaking. This day was certainly more interesting than he ever could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wouldn't exist without my friend, with whom I talk about ridiculous Harry Potter headcanons, and who is an amazing editor. She's the best.


	2. Chapter 2

Neither of the Weasley twins were at dinner that night. A few people noticed their absence, but most assumed they were in detention. The story of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class had already spread around the school. It was being told at all the House tables, each time with more embellishments and getting further from the truth. In several versions, George had gone to Umbridge’s office after class and tried to hex her bow to the ceiling, while it was still on her head to avenge his brother. 

Truthfully, they were both in the Room of Requirement. The room looked like one of the school dungeons, if the people who designed the dungeon had heard of windows and proper room ventilation. The walls were lined with chalkboards, messy writing covering nearly every inch, and the wave of a wand, a section of notes could be moved so it was next to a diagram. 

There were several workstations around the room, fully stocked with cauldrons, basic potion supplies, and a few rarer materials. George thought the Room had opened a passage to Snape’s personal store room. If their efforts managed to annoy him as well, all the better. 

In addition, the room had also provided them with a functional Muggle kitchen. There had been only a few minor explosions so far, nothing too damaging. In one corner, there was a stash of medical supplies. Any mad scientist worth their salt would have wept with joy seeing the room. 

Fred sprawled in a chair at a table in the kitchen section, long limbs going everywhere. George sat across from him, slightly more contained. A sheet of parchment lay between them on the table.

George leaned forwards, bracing his elbows on the table, a quill dangling from his right hand. “So Professor McGonagall really gave us her blessing? That’s not like her at all.”

“I know, but that’s really what it seemed like. She certainly didn’t tell us to stop. And like I told you, she was genuinely impressed with the methods behind our madness.”

George ran a hand over his face. “What do we do now?”

Fred spread his arms wide as a grin took over his face. “Anything we want, brother dearest. Anything we want.” He paused. “You know. Within reason.”

The night wore on, and there they sat, hunched over the parchment, ideas flowing between them as easily as water. Diagrams, words, and a few crude drawings covered the sheet. It may have seemed unreadable to anyone else, but the two of them understood it. 

They went back to the Common Room just before curfew. The story had spread throughout the day, and Fred was a minor celebrity. Lee Jordan gave him a Butterbeer as he climbed through the portrait hole. “Where have you been all day?” he asked. “It’s hard to congratulate someone I can’t find.”

Fred shrugged carefully. “I got chewed out my McGonagall for a bit, and then I went and founded a religion so I could properly express my thanks for her not Transforming me into a newt.” 

Angelina moved through the crowd, seemingly coming out of nowhere. “Did you get detention?”

Fred took one of her hands in his, giving it a brief squeeze. “Nah,” he said easily. “She did give me a good guilt trip though. Maybe her and Mum have been exchanging tips on proper technique.”

Angelina looked thoughtful while Lee was doubled up with laughter. “Who knows,” she said. “I could see them being friends.”

A look of horror spread across Fred’s face. “Oh no,” he said softly but emphatically. “I don’t want to think about that. I have to break up with you for having made me think of that.”

Angelina pulled her hand from his. “You scoundrel!” she cried. “I’ve never been so insulted in my life!” She turned away from him so that she was facing the back corner of the common room. “Katie! That’s another one for Fred!”

“Got it!” she yelled back. Money quietly changed hands between two seventh years. 

“You’re on thin ice, Weasley. Better be nicer to your girlfriend or you’ll find yourself declaring your undying love for me at breakfast while wearing an Easter bonnet.” Angelina said with a smile. 

Fred scoffed. “Please, I don’t need to worry about that. Remember October?” 

From the stricken look on Angelina’s face, it was clear that she did. “You threatened to break up with me so many times in those two weeks putting yourself very far ahead of me. It is you who should be worried about having to spend the day with Lucius Malfoy hair.” 

Lee and George both let out shocked, “Ooohs” while looking back and forth between the couple. 

“I know you, Fred Weasley. You’ll get overconfident, and catch up to me.”

“Well, my dear, we won’t know until May.” Fred said. “Until then, let the worst significant other win.” He leaned over to lightly kiss his girlfriend.

Lee pulled George to the side, and speaking in a low voice asked, “What really happened today?”

George looked at him coolly. “Exactly what Fred said happened. I wasn’t there for his conversation with McGonagall, so I don’t know exactly what was said, but the details are irrelevant. Somehow, it’s all good.”

“So, are the Wheezes still a go?”

George nodded. “We have a few more things to work out, but the Common Room should be a very interesting place by the end of next week.”

 

Fred sat on a table in the infirmary section of their lab, a bloody cloth pressed to his face. George hovered nearby with a book on healing spells. 

“Ah think we’re still having a bit of trouble with the Nosebleed Nougats,” Fred said in a thick voice. 

“Shut up and stop bleeding.” George, who was still scanning through a book, waved a hand vaguely in Fred’s direction.

“Ah’d stop bleeding if you could find a cure!”

“I’m doing my best!” He jabbed his wand at Fred’s face. “Episky sanguis maximus!”

Fred doubled over with a shout of pain. Both his hands clutched his face and his eyes were shut tight. 

“Oh, shit,” George swore. “Did I make it worse? Fred, are you okay?” 

“Bloody brilliant.” He looked up, his face coated in blood. He looked rather feral, with his wide smile framed with bright red blood. 

“It stopped?”

Fred nodded gingerly. “That’s not something I want to experience again. Was that even a real spell?”

“Nope. I had no idea that was going to work. Glad I didn’t kill you.”

“Oh, you think so silly made up spell is going to kill me? How naive. I plan on living at least until I’m a hundred, dying a relatively peaceful death, and then I will be cremated and turned into a spectacular fireworks display.”

George snorted. “Mum will find you in the afterlife and kill you again if you do that.” He tossed a clean washcloth to Fred. “Wash up, you’re a mess. I’ll be right back.” 

George returned after a few minutes with a tray of food from the kitchen. Fred was looking considerably less like a murder victim, but was pale beneath his freckles. George set the tray in front of him and told him to eat.

Fred looked skeptical. “What is this?” He poked at a dumpling shaped thing with a flaky crust. 

“Not sure, but it has a lot of spinach in it. You need more iron.”

That was good enough of an explanation for Fred, he took one of the dumplings and shoved the whole thing in his mouth. Halfway through his third one, he stopped chewing and looked up. 

“George, you’re brilliant!” he cried.

“What do you mean?”

Fred waved the spinach dumpling in his face. “We can use this! Spinach is good for the iron in your blood, and there has to be a way we can use that to fix the Nougats.”

“Merlin’s beard, I am a genius.” George leapt up from the table and dashed to the kitchen. He flung open cabinets and drawers, and emerged triumphant with a container full of spinach leaves. “I am positive that wasn’t there before. I love this room.”

Days passed. Some things were blown up, swears were shouted, but eventually the Nosebleed Nougats were finished. One bite from the other end of the candy stopped the bleeding almost immediately. Fred figured out how to make the most of the high iron content in spinach, and George managed to combine it with a distilled healing potion. As Fred put it, they had basically created a pill that would stop intentionally induced bleeding, while giving you a whole host of other health benefits. Just don’t take it on its own; they weren’t quite sure what would happen. 

The twins sat with their friend and partner in crime, Lee Jordan in an empty classroom. 

“I think we should run a few more tests before we start selling them,” George said. “You know, make sure the three of us haven’t developed an immunity to something that’ll affect everyone else.” 

Fred pointed at him. “Yes, good. How do we do that?”

George shrugged. “I dunno. I haven’t gotten that far.”

“Put out a bowl of them labelled ‘free samples’ in the Common Room?” suggested Lee. 

George shook his head. “That’s too random. We need to know exactly what happens when people eat these things. 

Fred stood up and began pacing around them, hands clasped behind his back. “No, Lee’s onto something here. The Common Room always has students in it, and a lack of teachers. It’s the perfect place for this. We just need a way to get people to eat these things.”

There was the occasional squeak of Fred’s shoe on the floor as he continued pacing, but that was the only noise in the silence of their thoughts. George was the first to speak. “What if we got people to volunteer as testers?”

“I know I’m charming as all hell,” Lee began, “But how am I supposed to convince a bunch of people to eat an untested thing that is specifically designed to cause bodily harm?”

“By making them want something more than they are afraid of what they’re trying.” George said slowly. “Which means —”

“We have to pay them,” Fred finished. 

Fliers started popping up around Gryffindor Tower over the next few days. There were some posted on the notice board, but others ended up in more unusual places. In pillows, the bathroom, inside of unattended textbooks, and in people’s shoes. 

WANTED  
Testers for the new line of joke products  
Payment will be discussed upon asking  
Contact Fred or George Weasley if interested  
*Participate at your own risk

The Common Room was crowded as rain lashed the windows and turned the outside world cold and dreary. Most of the students in the House were in the Tower for the night. It was the perfect opportunity to unveil the Skiving Snackboxes. A small crowd had gathered around the twins and Lee in a back corner of the room. 

“You’ve all wanted to get out of a class at some point. That History of Magic lecture that just won’t end, the stress of Transfiguration, or the physical pain of having to look at Snape’s greasy hair. Has that man never heard of conditioner? You’ve all wanted to get out of class, but rarely does something happen that allows you to make a quick exit. Allow me to now introduce the Skiving Snackboxes. One bite of these capsules, and you will be stricken with a medical emergency! Faint as believably as if you were in Trelawney’s tower! One bite from the other end will set you right as rain! Who wants to try one?” Lee Jordan and the twins held court over most of the Gryffindor common room. They were dramatically lit by flickering candles against the dark of the night. A crowd of younger students surrounded them, enthralled. One brave first year boy stepped forward to try one of the them. After biting into one, he swooned into Lee’s waiting arms. 

Fred stepped forwards, holding the other end of the candy. “And now for his triumphant return!” He pushed it into the boy’s mouth, who came to within the space of three heartbeats. The students who had been watching erupted in cheers. Lee made sure the boy sat in a chair and made sure he was okay before stepping forwards to join the twins at the front of the crowd. 

Fred held up his hands, a benevolent god standing in front of his worshippers. From across the Common Room, Hermione slammed her book down on a table. 

“Fred and George Weasley, that is enough!” Her voice crackled with power and indignation. 

“Yeah, the dosage seems strong enough, doesn’t it?” Fred replied without missing a beat. 

“That isn’t what I meant, and you very well know that. I already told you; you can’t test this stuff on other people.”

“But we’re paying them!” protested George. 

Hermione whirled to face him. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. It could be dangerous.”

“Look, he’s fine.” Fred turned to face the boy who had just recently fainted. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” the boy replied a bit weakly. Lee made a not on his clipboard. 

Hermione wrenched the clipboard out of his hands. “This is serious. What if he had gotten ill, or not woken up?”

“Oh, come on Hermione,” Fred said. “We tested all this stuff on ourselves.”

George cut in. “This is just to test that everyone reacts the same. We needed a larger test pool.”

Hermione glared at the two of them. Lee Jordan had vanished. “If you don’t stop testing your products on other students, I’ll —”

Fred smirked. “Put us in detention?” His voice was a challenge, a dare. 

“Make us write lines?” George asked. He clasped his hands in front of his heart as if he was praying. 

“I’ll tell your mother,” Hermione hissed. 

The twins both took a step back. “You wouldn’t,” George said in a low voice. 

 

“Oh yes I would. I doubt anyone can stop you from eating those things yourself, but I can stop you from giving them to first years.” With one last threatening look at them, she shoved the clipboard into Fred’s hands and stormed off. 

Fred and George shared a look of horror. Clearly, they thought Hermione had gone too far in threatening to tell their mother. Giving them detention, tell them off, that was all fine. But once the name of Molly Weasley was invoked, a line was crossed. 

“At least we know everyone has the same reactions,” George said weakly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took a while to update, but school is hard. As always, eternal thanks to my two editors/beta readers. You guys are the best.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva McGonagall has a personal life, a new educational decree is decreed, and Fred and George read books

Professor McGonagall waited. She knew the Weasley twins had to be up to something. All she needed was for it to come to light, and then find a way to help them. Or at least not stand in their way. The first hints that something was afoot was that students continuously came up to them in the halls. They were fairly popular on a normal day, but this was something new. Students of all ages and of all Houses were seen talking to them. 

Confirmation came in the form of acute medical distress. Students were dropping like flies in class. Vomiting, fainting, nosebleeds, and suddenly running fevers. One student would fall ill, and another would leave with them to escort them to the medical wing. Madame Pomfrey reported that only about half of the students who left class ever made it to her, and they usually were back in perfect health after a few minutes. 

Most telling was that most students fell ill during Umbridge's class. Students claimed they were allergic to her while hiding smiles with their hands. There must have also been something in the air in Professor Binns’ room; the number of students that left with nosebleeds and other ailments was nearly equal to that from Umbridge’s classes. 

Amazingly, there were almost no students falling mysteriously ill in her own classes. There were a smattering of younger kids in the first day or so, but that stopped quickly. 

She knew it was only a matter of days until Umbridge took action. She had to make her move first. Directly interfering was most likely unprofessional, and would bring unwanted attention to herself. McGonagall needed to find a way to discreetly meddle on the side of her students. 

If she was Umbridge, what would she do in this situation? The most effective way to stop her was try to predict what she was going to do. Logic was its own kind of magic. The orderly thinking eliminated the outrageous possibilities that people were most likely to jump to when emotional, and left only what made sense. 

Dolores had to move against the twins and their products, but in a way that solidified her own power. She was not a true teacher; she clearly did not care for or about the students. Her power came from the Ministry, from other adults. Which meant that there would be a very carefully worded Educational Decree hanging on the wall in the next few days. 

But how to word it? McGonagall was reasonably certain there wouldn’t be a specific reference to the Weasleys. Immortalizing their deeds in law, even to ban them, would give them power. She toyed briefly with the idea of banning all candy, but quickly dismissed it. There was no basis for it, and no way to support an argument banning all sweets. 

Her train of thought was derailed by the barn owl swooping through the window behind her desk. If owls could be sassy, this one would take the grand prize. He didn’t deign to look at McGonagall as he stuck his leg out in her general direction. With an exasperated sigh, she untied the letter from his leg, along with a small leather pouch. 

“I don’t have any food for you, Aodh,” she told the owl. “My sincerest apologies.” 

The owl wore a look of utter disdain. He let out an unholy screech before soaring back out the window on silent wings. 

_I’ve been banned from the new holistic medicine shop. You might be as well. Sorry about that. Would you be a dear and bring some asphodel and venomous tentacula roots next time you come home?_

_The pouch contains holly and salt. Put it on your window sills, and carry the rest with you for three days. It’s just a precaution. I’m sure those fools who run the place wouldn’t know a proper curse if it punched them in the face, but precautions never hurt. Before you get on me for cursing people again, they didn’t know shite about what they were doing. They were advertising essential oils as some miracle cure all! I wish there was a way to make sure only people who actually knew what they were doing were running these kinds of shops. Ignorant, unauthorized people do much more harm than good._

_Anyways, how’re things at school? I’m disappointed there isn’t another ball this year. We should invite Pomona to stay with us a bit this summer. You can make sure we don’t get into too much trouble. Maybe I can ask her if I can be a “guest lecturer” so I can come visit._

_All my love,  
Bridget _

 

Professor McGonagall held her head in her hands. Between Hogwarts and her home life, there was never a dull moment. This was now the sixth place Bridgit had been banned from in half as many years. If this trend kept up, they wouldn’t be able to leave their house in ten years time

She thought it would be nice to have one of the other professors visit over the summer, but after the Greenhouse Incident at the Yule Ball, she was hesitant to have her wife and Pomona running around the Scottish highlands together. Merlin only knows what trouble they would get into. 

With another sigh, she stood up from her desk. If Bridget said she should ward her rooms, she should probably do that. If she was being entirely honest, she didn’t entirely understand her wife’s magic. Experience had taught her however, that it was powerful. 

As she made her way around the room, McGonagall’s thoughts landed on the letter. One specific line in particular stuck in her memory; _“Ignorant, unauthorized people do much more harm than good.”_ She came to an abrupt stop. It was so _obvious_. The most effective way to target the Weasley twins is to go after their credibility. Dolores could justify a ban of unauthorized food to the board easily. 

She quickly finished putting the salt and holly mixture on her windows, then raced to her bookshelf. 

“Accio law books,” she cried pointing her wand at the wall. Several large tones flew off the shelves and landed on her desk. McGonagall pulled aside the ones concerned with business practices and arranged them in a stack. She summoned a piece of parchment and a quill. 

_My dear,_

_I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble with the owners of the shop. You are correct in saying that uninformed people are dangerous. I need your help with something related to that._

_Do you remember the Weasley twins? They’ve invented these ingenious candies that induce nosebleeds or nausea, but I believe that Professor Umbridge is trying to ban them. They need to have a legitimate business behind them, and this is where you come in. I’m sending you some magical law books for reference. Is it possible for you to tie their business to yours in a very convoluted way? I want them to have a good backing without actually selling them out. I ask you to work quickly; this is an ongoing problem._

_I too am rather disappointed about the lack of another Yule Ball. I greatly enjoyed having you here. I’ll try to visit for the weekend in a couple of weeks._

_With love,  
Minerva _

 

Time to find that damned owl. 

 

Educational Decree no. 9  
Any students found in possession of sweets from an unauthorized seller will be expelled

 

Fred and George were more excited than upset. 

“We got an educational decree in our honor!” Fred crowed. “You know it has to be about us.”

George sling his arm around his brother’s shoulder. “We’ve surpassed my greatest dreams. There’s an official rule against us!” 

“How naive of Professor Umbridge to assume that a silly rule will stop us.”

George laughed. “I bet sales will only go up because of this. Come on, let’s get breakfast.” 

The Great Hall was in a quiet uproar. No one was speaking loudly enough to truly cause a disturbance, but the tension in the room was palpable. The Gryffindor table looked ready to go to war. More than a few people are staring daggers at Umbridge up at the Head Table. Like iron filings pointing towards a magnet, everyone turned towards Fred and George as they sit down. 

Hermione opened her mouth as if to say something, but Fred cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t say ‘I told you so’. We all knew something like this was going to happen. You can at least be satisfied that no one has been hurt because of us.” 

She made a begrudging sound of agreement. “I appreciate the level of safety and care you put into your products,” she said slowly. “And I’m sorry you’re being targeted like this.”

“Your concern is noted,” Fred said magnanimously.

“Our favorite new dictator is looking quite smug this morning,” George noted, nodding his head towards the Head Table. Indeed, Professor Umbridge was looking unusually smug this morning. Her small, pudgy fingers were tearing apart a pastry one crumb at a time as her gaze moved leisurely across the room. 

George paused when he saw Professor McGonagall, who was a few seats away from Umbridge. The normally stoic Transfiguration teacher was grinning. She held a letter in one hand, and was practically cackling as she read it. Her smile stretched to both sides of her face and one eyebrow was on a valiant quest to join the rest of her hair. 

“Well then,” Fred said softly. “That is scarier that when her mouth gets really thin right before she calmly eviscerates you.”

“I wonder what that letter is about.” 

“Someone she got into an argument with forty years ago just died, meaning that she won,” Angelina said casually, sitting down in between the twins. 

George spat out his pumpkin juice. 

“Good morning to you too,” Fred said, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Seeing her that happy is a bit unnerving, huh?” Angelina. 

“It’s certainly unusual,” Fred began

“But it’s a good thing,” finished George. “She deserves to happy. Even if she does look a wee bit diabolical.” 

“Let’s hope her good mood continues through classes. I definitely did not practice my non-verbal Vanishing spells.” Angelina said with a laugh. 

 

If Professor McGonagall’s mood from breakfast lasted throughout the day, she didn’t show it. She was her usual strict self when the sixth years came in for Transfiguration class. If anything, she was working them harer and expecting more from them than usual. 

She strode around the room lecturing at them, and occasionally Vanishing things without warning. It kept the class on high alert and a bit jumpy. By the end of the hour, everyone looked worn out, and had pages of notes in front of them. 

The end of the class period rekindled hope in the hearts of the students. And then it was dashed for two of them.

“Fred, George, if you’ll stay behind a moment please? I need to speak with you.” It wasn’t so much a question as a polite demand. It left them no option but to say yes. 

Their friends shot them sympathetic looks as they left the class. If Professor McGonagall needed to talk to them after class, it probably wouldn’t be good for their health. Lee was the last to leave. He gave a small, sad salute to the twins before turning around and walking out the door. 

Professor McGonagall gave a small laugh. “You’d think you were going to your funerals, the way your friends are acting. I assure you that is not the case.” She made a broad gesture. “Please, have a seat.”

Fred and George nervously took seats in front of their professor’s desk. 

“Both of you are obviously aware of the new educational decree. As the Head of your House, I must at least try to keep you out of trouble. And I concur with the message of the decree; selling unlicensed food can be dangerous.”

Fred and George wore matching looks of indignation. 

“But we tested it!” Fred protested. 

“We used the Scientific Method and everything,” sputtered George.

“Your dedication is admirable,” McGonagall began. “But unless you can come up with a legitimate business and official backing before dinner, I’m afraid I must stop you from doing business. If you want to try to set up a business, I have some books on the matter in my office. Let me get those to give to you.” She stops from her desk and turned to her private office in the back of the room. 

George twisted in his seat to face Fred. “I thought you said she wasn’t going to interfere,” he hissed. 

“That’s what I thought too.” Fred spoke with an air of helplessness. 

“Well what are we supposed to do? We can’t build a business in a day!” 

There came a noise like a large stack of books falling from beyond the closed office door. The twins turned forwards again, startled. The door swung open with a bang revealing the Transfiguration professor in the doorway. There was a rather large stack of books in her arms, precariously balanced. 

“Some of these are from my personal collection, so please treat them with care.” she said. “I’m sorry that I can’t do more for you, but I do hope that you find something useful inside.” 

Fred and George scrambled up from their seats to take the books from her arms. 

“Thank you Professor,” they said in unison. 

“You’re welcome. Best of luck.” Her words were a clear dismissal and the twins hurriedly left the classroom. They went back to their lab in the Room of Requirement, which had spawned cozy reading chairs and a writing desk. Fred thumped his portion of the stack onto the desk, and then went to the kitchen. George put his down with the slightest bit bit more caution, and then went to the mini library. They reconvened by the comfy chairs two minutes later, Fred with a mug, and George with a small book. 

Fred pointed at George. “You first,” he said. “Do we really need another book?”

“Oh, can you understand legal terms easily? I for one, need a thesaurus to get through this. What do you have?”

Fred grinned. Somewhere, the Cheshire Cat felt part of his power stolen from him. “Devil’s Brew. If we’re going to be coming through legal texts trying to find an exploitable loophole, I need caffeine.” 

George shrugged easily, incorporating the movement into the fluid motion of sitting down. “We’ve both chosen our weapons; let’s do this.”

Combing through wizard law code was never easy, and was even less so when the task facing them amounted to searching for a needle in a haystack on a time limit. Unfortunately, none of the information jumped out at them as being particularly relevant to their needs. 

George slammed his book shut and reached for another. He really didn’t need a series of treaties on the establishment of ethical business interactions between wizards and muggles in the 19th century. The new book fell open to a sheaf of papers in the middle. Large gothic font in the top of the page proclaimed “The Weasley Wizard Wheezes” Neat print, as if from a machine covered the rest of the page in even lines. George flipped through the rest of the packet in a daze. 

He flailed a hand in the direction of his twin without looking up. “Fred. Hey, hey, Fred. You gotta see this.” 

“This had better be good. I’m in the middle of reading a fascinating case from the 14th century of some guy trying to build a monopoly on cauldrons.” 

George stayed silent. 

Fred moved his chair over next to George’s and looked over his shoulder. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “Is this for real?” 

“Joint hallucinations are unlikely, so I’m inclined to say yes.” 

They read in silence for a while. Phrases like “legal partnership” and “tax purposes” and “parent corporation” jumped off the page at them. As of now, Weasley Wizard Wheezes has been absorbed under a larger corporation. But while this other company technically owned them, as near as the twins could tell, it didn’t actually exist. It only existed on paper, but the ties between it and other businesses were so tightly wound that it was nearly impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

There was a short handwritten note on a scrap of parchment clipped to the bottom. 

_You’re welcome. Bridget McGonagall._

The twins let out simultaneous sighs. “Well, it looks like we have our legitimate business,” George said leaning back in his chair. 

“I hope you find something useful inside,” Fred said softly. “She’s brilliant.”

George gave his brother a shit-eating grin, the kind that frequently sent people scrambling for cover. “Let’s go talk to Umbridge, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, all of the thanks to my two beta readers. You help me write good, and give me confidence. In terms of updates, I hope to get more out soon! School is over, which means I have time for the important things in life, such as writing fic.   
> Thank you to everyone who has read this. I appreciate you more than you could know. Comments and kudos are always welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

The door to Professor Umbridge's office was ajar when the twins got there. When they knocked, her voice simpered out into the hallway. “Come in.” The door fell open grandly to reveal the twins; ties properly knotted, hair combed, and robes falling perfectly across their shoulders. Fred held a folder in his hands. Her expression darkened momentarily when she saw who it was. They exuded confidence as they crossed the room to sit in front of her desk. 

“Ah, our young entrepreneurs,” she said delicately. “I fear this won’t be a pleasant discussion. By order of the Ministry, the sale of any unauthorized goods at Hogwarts is forbidden. I do so hate dissuading your dreams, by rules are rules.” She wore a smug smile as naturally as a cheetah wears its spots. 

Fred leaned forward. The ball had been served; it was up to him to return the volley. “Lucky for us, Professor Umbridge, we are authorized.” 

Her mouth gaped. “What do you mean?” 

“If you look here,” Fred said opening the folder. 

“You’ll see that we have all the necessary paperwork.” 

She grabbed the folder off the desk and flipped through it. Disbelief moved over her face like a cloud covering the sun. She turned a remarkable shade of purple. It was glorious to behold. 

And then it began to fade. The smug smile was coming back, stronger than before. 

“It seems as though you did your research quite thoroughly, but according to Wizarding law, underage wizards cannot be the complete and legal owners of their own business. And according to this—-“ she paused to tap one stubby finger against the folder. “Weasley Wizard Wheezes is owned solely by the two of you.” 

“You are correct, of course,” said George. “However, according to the business code, subsection j, line 51, an underage wizard may own their own business provided they are emancipated, or have an older witch or wizard who owns their own business acting as a consultant. So while Fred and I own the Wheezes, all of the merchandise and licensing, you will find that we are being overseen by Wizard Apothecary LLC. We don’t have a singular consultant, as is typical, but still perfectly within the law.” George leaned back in his chair, his eyes lighting up as he exchanged a quick glance with Fred. For a brief moment, his true emotion was written plainly across his face. As soon as it happened, both boys were perfectly composed. 

Professor Umbridge gritted her teeth. “I will be looking into this matter. Until I can verify this, you are still not allowed to sell to students within the school.” 

The twins stood up together. “We understand your concerns completely, but we must ask you—” said Fred.

“To give your full attention to out paperwork. It is legitimate, and just because we are students doesn’t mean you can’t respect us,” finished George. “Have a good day, Professor.”

————————

 

Classes were over for the day and the hallways were fairly busy. The twins were on the receiving end of many odd looks. No one expected them to be looking so put together and well dressed after the school day had ended. 

Lee found them and fell into step beside Fred. 

“What the hell happened to you two? McGonagall talks to you after class, you disappear for hours, and now you look like you’re off to have a meeting with the Minister!” 

The twins exchanged a look. Much was conveyed in that singular look, but no one else knew just what was conveyed. Instead of taking the staircase that would lead them back to Gryffindor Tower, they veered off to the right, heading down an empty hallway. 

“Why are we going to the DA meeting room?” Lee asked in a low voice. Fred paced back and forth along a blank stretch of wall. “Seriously guys, what is going on?” A small, unassuming door popped into existence in the previously blank wall. It was not the DA door. 

“Guests first,” Fred said. 

Lee entered the room, the twins following close behind him. He was looking around in wonder; the magnitude of what lay before him rendered him speechless. He was led over to the lounge area which was still covered by law books. 

As succinctly as they could, Fred and George explained what was going on. The confrontations with Umbridge, their conversations with Professor McGonagall, and the whole thing with the new business set up in their name. Lee took it remarkably well. After six years of friendship with the twins, very little surprised him anymore. But Professor McGonagall helping them? That was unexpected. 

He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Well, this is new,” he said. “Both the situation with McGonagall and this room. How could you keep this hidden from me?”

George shrugged. “It used to just be our workroom, and you were always involved with the marketing side of things. But now the Wheezes have grown beyond us, so, here you are.”

“I thought you’d been sneaking into potions dungeons for the past three years!”

Fred threw his head back with a roar of laughter. “Oh man, could you imagine Snape’s reaction if he had found us in one of his precious dungeons? He’d probably have hexed us to death and back, thinking we were illegally brewing Polyjuice Potion.”

Lee waved his arms around articulating his point. “That’s why I was so impressed!”

“Sorry to disappoint you, and to have kept this from you,” George said. 

“We promise to keep you in the loop from now on,” Fred added. “And according to this new form, you are officially the head of the marketing department. So we should tell you things.”

“Not to mention, you’re our friend, and friends shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.”

Lee looked back and forth between them, following the verbal tennis match. “Thanks, guys,” he said. “Now, can we go back to that bit about me being head of marketing? I have a few questions.” 

“Later,” George said. “We have to get to Quidditch practice, or Angelina will kill us.”

As it was, the twins were still a few minutes late to practice. Angelina broke up with Fred, and made the two of them run an extra lap of the pitch. She ran the team through a list of drills extensive enough that even Oliver Wood would have been impressed. The Chasers, Keeper, and Seeker flew around the pitch in a tight formation while Fred and George did their absolute best to knock them off their brooms. They had to pass the Quaffle amongst themselves while holding in a pentagon shape. 

Mist clung to the ground like clouds that had fallen from the sky and were too tired to rise again. It drifted slowly, disturbed only when someone landed on the field to run a lap. Angelina grew up in the Muggle world, with younger siblings who played organized team sports. She was not afraid to tell her team to drop and do ten push-ups. Group exercise built character, was her philosophy. 

“Listen up everyone,” she said once they were back in the locker room. “I know the Slytherins have been making life difficult for us this past week, and we haven’t had enough practice time, but that’s all behind us. The match is tomorrow, and there is nothing we can do now about that.”

“Great speech, honey,” Fred called out. “I feel super motivated.”

She threw her arm brace at his head. “There is nothing we can do, but it doesn’t matter. We are the better team. Their “team” is a bunch of bullies, putting on a uniform, and existing together in the same place. We are a family. We talk to each other off of the Quidditch pitch. This means that we know each other, that we can rely on one another. This gives us an advantage. All you have to do tomorrow, is be your best for your teammates. Don’t think about personal glory, think about how you are there for your teammates, someone to rely on. Go eat something healthy. Gryffindor!”

“GRYFFINDOR!” the rest of the team yelled back at her. Their voices echoed off the walls of the room making it sound like there were more of them than there really were. 

Dinner was a tense affair. Students at the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were shooting death glares at each other, the other two Houses caught in the crossfire. Hexes had been flying thickly in the corridors the past week. No member of either team travelled alone anymore. 

In addition, everyone had somehow found out what happened that afternoon between Umbridge and the twins. Three of the four Houses were furious at her and the House with most of her supporters. There were a few glares coming from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw directed at the Slytherins. If a match were to be lit, the air itself was likely to ignite. 

The possibility of a fight was not far from anyone’s mind. There was too much tension, too many passionate teenagers. Something was going to happen. It was not a matter of if, but when. Angelina was fervently hoping the match tomorrow would bring some sort of resolution, de-escalation of the conflict. 

 

Rivalry with another House was normal. Nerves before a match were normal. Quidditch was normal. Everyone had a role to perform. Lee commentated, the crowd cheered, and the players performed their roles. There were no new rules, no surprises in a Quidditch match. It was supposed to be normal. 

“Banned,” Angelina said in a hollow voice later in the evening. “No Seeker, and no Beaters. What are we going to do?”

“I can appeal this,” Harry said desperately. “According to the official rulebook for school-level Quidditch teams, a student can only be banned if there is significant academic concern, or they nearly kill someone. Umbridge can’t ban us for this.”

Angelina just shook her head. “She’s High Inquisitor. She can make up whatever rules she wants.” 

“How do you know that off the top of your head?” George asked. 

“I’ve been best friends with Hermione for five years.” Harry said and George shrugged in acquiescence. 

“Can I talk to you in private, Fred?” Angelina said quietly. He nodded, and followed her out of the portrait hole. 

She led him to a secluded window at the bottom of the tower. Fred leaned against the wall while she sat on the ledge, legs pulled into her chest. It made her look smaller. A few of her short curls had escaped the headband that had been holding them back during the match and now hung by her eye.

She sighed. “What happened today wasn’t fair at all,” she began. “And I can’t help thinking it’s because of what you’ve been doing with the Wheezes.”

“What do you mean?” Fred’s voice was low, and his posture straightened. 

“Umbridge was extra vicious to you and George at the match. What you, and Malfoy did would make any teacher mad, but she took it a step further. I think this is her way at getting back at you guys for publicly humiliating her.”

Fred’s face was thunderous. “Oh, so it’s my fault Malfoy was out there insulting my mum and everything about my family? And it’s my fault Umbridge is a daft cow?” 

“You did overreact a bit, yeah. I heard everything the Slytherins were saying to you, and I can’t tell you what you did was wrong, but you have to read the situation a bit better before you start throwing punches!”

“Well, I certainly am sorry for not taking time to think through my actions before going after the git who’s had it out for my entire family since he was born!” Fred’s voice had risen to a shout at this point.

Angelina stood up to face him. “Jesus, Fred, have you not been paying attention to anything that’s been going on this past week?” She was nearly shouting now too. “They were looking for a fight! People have gone to the hospital wing after being hexed in the hallways! We knew they were going to play dirty today.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t get upset! What, am I supposed to not have feelings because I knew it might happen?”

“It means you should have known better! Of course you’re allowed to be angry, but you have to be more careful, especially with Umbridge. She plays favorites, and is going to pick Malfoy and his friends every time! Especially if you keep one-upping her. You and George might find putting one over her funny, but clearly you didn’t think about the consequences.”

Fred took a step back, shaking his head. “Now you sound like everybody else,” he said. “Stop taking things apart for fun. Stop doing experiments. Why can’t you do better in school? Why aren’t you more like your older brothers?” His voice was mocking, and pained. “Sorry for not being smart enough to realize my actions would have consequences.” 

“Fred, no, that’s not what I meant,” Angelina began. She reached a hand towards him, but he turned away. “Fred—”

He shook his head, back still towards her. “No. I’m done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, now there's angst. You can hate me a little bit for this. This is probably my favorite chapter that I've written, so I hope you guys like it too.  
> Comments and kudos always appreciated!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the angst is (mostly) resolved and cake is eaten

Seemingly every day there was a new educational decree hanging on the wall outside the Great Hall. Every day, new rules, regulations, and items that were banned. Never before had the students been under such scrutiny. Even getting a book from the library was now suspicious, because Umbridge had access to library records. According to her, reading about the Healer’s Strike of 1854 might inspire the student student to enjoy a bit of civil disobedience. Nevermind that the student in question was doing research for her senior History of Magic project, and planned on becoming a Healer. 

Sales for the Wheezes were still good, but down from before the fateful Quidditch match. The fun had gone out of the petty defiance of Umbridge and all her rules. It was real now. The consequences were real. 

The whole school was tense, waiting with bated breath. The professors were afraid to speak freely, afraid of Umbridge overhearing and drawing them up on spurious charges. The students hardly dared to do anything for fear of being given detention for some inane reason or another. Laughter was scarce in the hallways. 

Fred Weasley was the most changed in the weeks following his Quidditch ban. Around other people, he still laughed and made jokes, but when no one was looking, the smile slid off his face like oil on water. He spent more time studying for classes than experimenting for new products. He didn’t talk to Angelina. 

All of Gryffindor House knew the happy couple had broken up, but no one was talking about it. The Weasleys were a protective bunch, so if either Ron or Ginny heard anything bad about Fred, there would be hell to pay. Fred almost hated his family at this moment. He didn’t want his younger sister acting as his watchdog. What he wouldn’t give to be a normal student. He took to hiding in the library, one of the few places no one would ever think to find him. He did his homework, studied for exams, and stayed out of the way of normal life. 

Lee snuck up behind Fred in the library three weeks after The Incident. He leaned over and grabbed the book that was lying in front of him. Fred looked up in surprise, brows beginning to knit together in annoyment. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Frederick Julian Weasley willingly did homework. For multiple hours a day.” 

Fred glared up at his friend. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf. Give me my book back.”

Lee scoffed, but put the book back down on the table. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re just moping.” 

“I’m not moping,” he hissed. 

Lee sat down next to him. “Bullshit,” he said eloquently. “A sudden interest in schoolwork is your way of dealing with your feelings about your breakup.”

Fred sputtered, but didn’t outright deny anything. Lee lay a hand on his shoulder. “Take some advice from someone who has been rejected before. You can wallow a bit, but ultimately you gotta move on.”

“Maybe I want to have some time to myself!”

You’ve practically been ignoring me and all your other friends for three weeks. Not cool, my dude.” 

Fred looked down at the table. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else,” he said softly. 

“What are you talking about?”

“If I hadn’t antagonized Umbridge, none of this would have happened. I don’t want any more of my friends being caught in the crossfire.” 

Lee sighed and pulled Fred into a hug. Fred’s head rested on his shoulder, and one hand was on the back of his neck. It was a little awkward since they were both sitting down, but that didn’t matter. “No one blames you for anything, okay? Bad stuff happens, but we’ve got your back through it all.” 

Fred sniffled, his head still buried in Lee’s shoulder. 

“We all know Umbridge is the worst,” continued Lee. “And I’m so proud of what you and George have been doing. You guys have always been yourselves, and that’s the best thing you could possibly do. Don’t think for a minute that your friends will just abandon you in your hour of need. When the whole world is against you, I’ll be by your side.” 

Fred sat up, wiping tears from his face. “Thanks, Lee,” he said. “Am I at least allowed to wallow in my first breakup?”

Lee laughed. “Not for much longer, you aren’t. If I were out of it for two weeks every time I was rejected, I’d be useless. Matt, the cute Hufflepuff from Charms, turned down my charms just last week. We‘ll go to the kitchens and eat cake, but then you gotta move on.”

“Okay,” Fred said, still a bit watery. He haphazardly stuffed his homework back into his bag as Lee stacked the library books together. They returned them at the front desk, then walked down to the kitchens, arms around each other’s shoulders.   
\-------------------

 

The thing about the twins was that they were different people. Just because Fred and George looked the same on the outside didn’t mean they were the same on the inside. They had the same hair, the same freckles, and the same slightly crooked smile. But George refused to eat mushrooms while his brother thought no meal was complete without them. He wasn’t a secret romantic. He was deeply afraid of geese. He dealt with bad situations differently. 

Home was always where George felt most comfortable. He like knowing that he was surrounded by people he loved and who loved him in return. Nothing was better than the smell of food being cooked with love wafting through the house and gardens. Recreating the feel of the Burrow was impossible, but the closest he could get was going to the kitchens. 

The chaos surrounded him and reminded him of home. After classes and finishing his homework, George slipped down to the kitchens. After a few days, he could see order underneath the chaos. There was a system to the frantic movements of the elves. They wouldn’t let him help, but they did give him a corner of the kitchen to himself. 

There was magic in the repetitive movements of rolling out a pie crust, and turning a group of different ingredients into something delicious. George made himself cook without magic to see what he can do. It was difficult, but in a good way. It was like writing with his non-dominant hand. He had the ability to do it, but now it’s different. He can’t think about the trials and tribulations of the day when he’s focused on a different task. 

He started with making things his mum made. Shepherd's pie, puddings, and soup. He then moved on to trying his own ideas. George discovered quickly that experimenting with food was not the same as experimenting with magic. Things went wrong in spectacular fashion, and he loved it. 

The Hogwarts library had many things, but cookbooks were not one of them. After a scare with an exploding pot of boiling sugar, George decided it would be in everyone’s best interest if he found at least one real recipe. It was a Thursday evening and he should have been at Quidditch practice if the world was normal. Instead, he was doing a shelf check for anything that looked promising. He saw Fred at a table in the corner, but didn’t go over to him. 

After an hour and a half of searching through the shelves and flipping through tables of contents, George found a dusty set of shelves next to the Restricted section. As near as he could tell, they were all from the Muggle world. Collections of fairy tales, history books, and there, on the top shelf, cookbooks. George grabbed one at random, brushing the dust off the cover. Mastering the Art of French Cooking read the cover in faded red letters. He flipped through quickly, but put it back on the shelf. He’d be back for this once he stopped blowing things up. A couple of books later found him with Anyone Can Bake in his hands. He did have a bit of a sweet tooth and the book claimed to be for beginners… He signed it out to himself, and left the library without talking to his brother. 

Anyone can bake, provided George Weasley was not included the data set. He should have looked closer at the book before he took it. Things have changed a bit since the late 1920s, when it was published. If he didn’t know what something was or where to find it, he tried to make his best guess at a substitution. The worst was that it had been edited by someone years ago, with things crossed out, or measurements replaced with “a pinch”. 

He found himself ready to give up, but kept trying. Two weeks after the ban, George made two angel cakes a day. His corner of the kitchens was coming to life with sheets of parchment spelled to the walls, and stores of ingredients and cooking implements laid out across the counter. He took meticulous notes on everything he did, trying to make something delicious. 

One Wednesday night, three weeks after life had fallen apart, George made a perfect angel cake. It looked like the illustration from the books, and the color and texture were perfect. He nearly turned around to where Fred would be standing if the world made sense, but of course he wasn’t there. He wanted, no needed, to share this with someone, but there was no one. Maybe he could write a letter home to his mother. She’d be proud he could bake like this. But doing that would require explaining everything that was going on this year. George didn’t want to think of the humiliation of writing that letter.

Dear Mum,

Hope everything is going well at home. Things at school haven’t been great, what with the ministry constantly interfering. I was actually given a lifetime ban from Quidditch after defending our family against what that Malfoy kid was saying. Fred got the axe too. That was 3 weeks ago, and I haven’t really spoken to him or Lee since. On the bright side, I can cook now! My onion soup isn’t half as good as yours, but I’m still proud of it. Today I made a really beautiful looking cake. Can’t wait to eat it by myself! 

I haven’t gotten in any trouble since I was banned from Quidditch, which I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear about. Being lonely has kept my nose clean. I’m looking forwards to coming home for Easter, so I can get away from the stares of my classmates and the judgment of Umbridge.

All my love,

George

Yeah, that would not go over well. Molly Weasley would launch a one woman assault on the castle, get into a shouting match with Umbridge, if not try to duel her, and then smother George in hand-knitted sweaters, love, and fudge. Well, he wouldn’t mind the last part if he was being honest with himself. He also really would have liked someone to share his accomplishment with. But no. The world was all topsy turvy, so the boy who was one half of a whole was now alone. 

George had just resigned himself to celebrating alone when he heard a large commotion by the doors. A voice rang out above the noise saying, “Make way, recently dumped teenage boy coming through! We need to bury our feelings with cake!” 

George looked up to see Lee marching through the kitchen gesturing expansively with one arm, the other firmly clamped around Fred’s shoulders and steering him. Fred looked like he was fighting a losing battle to keep the smile off his face. Before George could decide whether to greet them or hide, Lee saw him. 

Lee pulled Fred around so they were both facing the corner. “George!” Lee cried. “How convenient of you to be at the place we need you before we knew we needed you.”

George slowly waved at them. “I see you finally got my brother to leave the library.”

“Yes, it wasn’t an easy task, but here he is, ready to rejoin society. You’ve been gone too, George. What’s up?”

He shrugged. In his unexpected return to his friends, he found himself slipping back into his usual personality. He put up a smile and a jaunty tilt of his head as a wall against his true feelings. “Doing homework, avoiding Umbridge, trying to stay out of trouble. You know, normal things for me to be doing.” 

Lee let out a derisive snort of laughter. “And I’m next in line to be the prime minister of Muggle England. You and your brother both need to learn how to deal with your problems without becoming such angsty teens. Come, eat cake with us.” 

George shrugged. “I was planning on eating cake anyways,” he said, pointing to his creation.

“Excellent, you’re one step ahead of us,” Lee said dragging Fred with him towards the table. “Now let’s indulge for a bit, and then I need both of you to agree to stop isolating yourselves.” He glared at the twins until they both nodded. 

“I think he’s been spending time with Mum,” George whispered to his brother. 

“You’re right, that glare was just like hers.”

“Maybe she found a way to possess him.”

“Has our friend secretly been our Mum in disguise the whole time?” They both shot surreptitious looks at Lee, who was occupied with slicing the cake. 

“That would explain why she always seems to know the trouble we’ve gotten into…” 

Plates thumped down in front of the boys, startling them out of their conversation. “Eat, and then we’re going to talk about your feelings,” Lee said. “I already had a bit of a heart-to-heart with Fred, but it wouldn’t hurt for the three of us to have a conversation together. And this cake looks truly delicious, so enjoy it.”

George raised his hand rather sheepishly. “I made it.” 

Fred looked at him agog. “You can cook something edible without exploding everything around you? I am shocked.” 

“The first couple tries weren’t nearly this good, I’ll grant you that. But I’ve been down here the past few weeks, learning how to cook.”

Lee pointed his fork at George accusingly. “I knew you weren’t quietly doing your homework. But why cooking?”

He looked away, unable to make eye contact as a bit of true face broke through. “It reminded me of home.” He turned to look at Fred. “You know how Mum always makes onion soup with bread if she’s had a bad day? I wanted that. I had a very bad day, and I associate home cooked meals with feeling better. It wasn’t the same eating food made by someone else.” 

Fred looked like he had just been punched in the stomach. “How’d you get from onion soup to cake?” he asked softly.

“Soup is Mum’s thing,” he explained. “I wanted my own bad day food. Also, the library doesn’t have many options when it come to cookbooks. .” 

“I didn’t even know they had cookbooks,” Fred said. “And I spent a lot of time in the library these past few weeks.” 

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” George asked in between bites of cake.

“Yeah. I think I might actually be the top of my Charms class now.”

George and Lee both broke out in laughter. “Man, that’s why Flitwick’s been acting strangely these past few classes,” Lee said. “He probably this is some kind of elaborate ruse because there’s no way a Weasley could be top of the class.”

“It’s funny what happens when you actually pay attention in class and do the work.”

“But Fred,” George chimed in. “We already know all of this stuff.”

“Yeah, but I can’t exactly walk into an exam and show off the Swamp and get credit.”

“Shame, I’m proud of the Swamp.” 

“When your joke shop becomes wildly successful, it won’t matter how many OWLS you got,” Lee said. “Everyone who matters knows how smart you two are.”

“Oh, stop it Lee,” Fred said while fanning himself theatrically. “You’re making me blush.”

George sat back in silence, letting his brother and best friend argue good naturedly. He still needed time to adjust to the unexpected company. While he was smiling on the outside, his insides were still a twisty knot of worry and sadness. But having his two closest friends here made him think it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to show what he felt inside. If Fred could talk about his feelings, so could he. And having a bad day with friends was better than a bad day alone. 

When there was a lull in the conversation, George spoke up. “I’m sorry for ignoring you guys for the past couple weeks. I’ve missed you guys a lot. After the Quidditch match, I just shut everyone out.” 

“I missed you too buddy,” Lee said. “You have every right to feel bad after the shit Umbridge pulled, but you don’t have to feel bad alone. I already had this talk with Fred, but your friends are here for you.” 

“Making bad day food is okay, but that can’t be all you do when you’re having a tough go of it,” Fred added. “I know I wasn’t doing much better by locking myself in the library, but we can both learn from this and do better next time, yeah?”

George nodded. 

“Let’s move onto happier things, yeah?” Lee asked. “I’m very proud of you both for talking about your feelings today, and now it’s time to stop moping. I haven’t had the chance to tell you about what happened when I had detention with Marcus Flint last week…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I haven't abandoned this fic, I'm just a music major now. Clearly there is no schedule to updates, because I have no editing schedule. But I will see this out to the end. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, and thank you to everyone reading this


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McGonagall is McGonadone with this shit

The front page of the Prophet blared the news. Ten Death Eaters had escaped Azkaban, their whereabout currently unknown. Both of the Lestranges had gotten out; Bellatrix’s picture seemed to stare at McGonagall as she looked at the headline in shock. Neville. The poor boy, would he be okay? 

Students all over the Hall looked worried and were conversing in tense tones. The older students were more grim faced than the younger students who just looked terrified. They were all too young for this. All of the teachers, save one also looked scared. Umbridge seemed to be mad more than anything else. Her precious Minister had a scandal on his hands, and she knew it could have been avoided if Fudge had listened to Dumbledore. The Minister wasn’t the perfect leader she pretended he was. McGonagall knew in her gut that the escaped prisoners wouldn’t be regarded with the severity they deserved. It would, however, make an awfully convenient excuse for increasing government control over the school. They must think of the children, after all.   
Not much Transfiguration was taught that day. Many of the students, especially the younger ones had questions. McGonagall tried to reassure them as best she could, but it was plain to everyone that something very bad was happening in the Wizarding world. The first and second years might not have understood exactly what was happening, but they weren’t dumb. They were so young.   
Worst of all, Umbridge came in for a surprise inspection during 3rd period. The second years were supposed to be Transfiguring small animals into teacups, but instead they were listening to an impromptu lecture on the first Wizarding War. McGonagall was trying to combine history with social issues, and she could see Umbridge shake her head in disapproval every time she made a point about why He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named was wrong. She was a teacher. If her students didn’t know something, she was duty bound to educate them, government and politics be damned. 

Later that day, a sheaf of light pink parchment appeared on her desk. There would be a staff meeting at 4, after classes were over for the day, order of the High Inquisitor. McGonagall let out a string of foul words in three different languages as she crumpled the note. If given the choice between going to this meeting, and defanging a Venomous Tentacula by hand while listening to American country music, she’d chose the latter. 

She tried so hard to keep her face neutral on her walk to the teacher’s lounge. Despite everything she was feeling, her personal opinions, she needed to look professional in front of the students. It would take something truly drastic before she lost her composure completely. 

She sat down next to Professor Sprout at the large table in the lounge. “Hello Pomona,” she said with a sigh. “How’s your day been?”

“Tense. The news from this morning is hitting everyone differently. The kids were acting out more today than usual. Except the Weasley twins; they’re still withdrawn and perfectly behaved. I’m getting worried about them. How’re you doing?”

“Not too well. I’ve been answering questions about the escape and the first war all day. Most of them weren’t even alive. It must be so hard for them. I got a surprise inspection this morning, and I expect this meeting was called because of me.”

“Minerva, what did you do?”

Before she could anwer, Professor Umbridge walked into the room, scroll of parchment tucked under her arm and a self satisfied smirk on her face. 

“By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes,” McGonagall muttered under her breath. 

Professor Sprout kicked her foot under the table and shot her a meaningful glare. 

“I’d like to thank you all for taking the time to come to this little meeting of mine,” began Umbridge. “You’ve all had very busy days, and the news from this morning is certainly troubling. As educators, our primary concern is the well-being of our students. That is why I will be increasing class inspections starting tomorrow. In these troubling times, it is important that their teachers are being held to high standards. Anyone who is failing to meet Ministry standards will be dismissed.”

“Additionally, it has come to my attention that some teachers are deviating from their subjects when lecturing. As of now, that is forbidden. You aren’t being employed to share your personal opinions or disperse information at will; your job is to teach a specific subject. Straying from that well-worn path of instruction will also be grounds for removal under the new Ministry approved rules. I do so hope you take all of this to heart and put your best foot forward tomorrow. I’d hate to see any of you go.” Umbridge turned on a stubby heel and strode out of the silent room.

It was a good thing Professor McGonagall was too stunned to think properly, otherwise she would have been cursing Umbridge twelve ways to Sunday. With non-verbal spells, her looks could kill. As it was, she was staring at the front of the room where the hated woman was standing just moments before, mouth gaping open. The feeling of a hand on her shoulder brought her back to herself.

“Minerva, are you alright?” Professor Sprout spoke with the same gentle tone of voice she used when talking to her plants. 

“How can she do this,” McGonagall whispered. “This is going too far.”

“I know.”

“I can’t do my job with her hovering over me all the time. How am I supposed to take to care of my students if I’m not allowed to talk about anything?”

“I suppose all we can do now is just wait for it to be over, my dear.”

“No. I won’t sit around and do nothing. I can’t.” Professor McGonagall stood up from the table. Rage was written across her face and in the lines of the tendons of her clenched fists. “I won’t be at dinner tonight. It wouldn’t end well for anyone. Perhaps I will see you tomorrow.” She went back to her office, locked the door, sat at her desk and cried.   
It wasn’t too long until Trelawney was gone. 

If there was one thing Minerva McGonagall was good at besides highly advanced Transfiguration magic, it was intimidating the shit out of other people. Between her tall stature, direct glare, and penchant for wearing pointed hats, she cut an imposing figure. 

And that was before she even opened her mouth. Any student of hers, current or former, could testify to her ability to command a room. She had met Bridget by yelling at an uninformed Tory supporter together at a protest in the 60s. Over the years, they made an intimidating pair, first as friends, then as wives.

As a teacher and someone who frequently had to talk her wife out of slightly illegal things, McGonagall became skilled in using the exactly right words to craft an argument. She had always been careful to never be unprofessional in school, and to argue respectfully. But now there was this woman in pink standing in her room, undermining the foundations of her school, and demeaning her students. 

She interrupted again, to insult one of the students, who was sitting right there in front of her. McGonagall stood up. “I’m sorry,” she said icely. “I should have made my meaning clearer. Harry has achieved high marks in all Defense Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher.” As Umbridge started at her, she turned to look at Harry. “You want to be an Auror?”

“Yes, Professor,” he said quietly. 

Still looking at Harry but not really speaking to him, McGonagall said, “Then I will do everything in my power to help you achieve that. I will will coach you nightly to ensure you achieve the proper marks, and are aware of the requirements.” 

Umbridge opened her mouth as if to speak, but McGonagall just spoke louder. “As your teacher, it is my duty to push you to be better, and help you achieve your goals. If being an Auror is what you want, then so help me Merlin, I will make that happen. Anyone who thinks you are not a skilled wizard is blind and a fool.”

“The Minister of Magic will never hire Harry Potter,” shrieked Umbridge from the corner. “You are filling his head with false hope!

McGonagall wrenched her head to the side to face her. “There may well be a new Minister by the time Potter is ready to join!”

“Aha! You want the Minister gone! You want Albus Dumbledore to replace him, and then you can be Under Secretary to the Minister as well as Headmistress!”

McGonagall gave a short bark of a laugh. “You are raving mad. Potter, that concludes our career consultation.”

Harry scrambled for the door while Umbridge sputtered indignantly in the corner. McGonagall knew she could have handled the situation differently, but she was so done with this woman and everything she stood for. She had been a teacher for more than twenty years and she’d be damned if the government waltzed into her classroom and told her how to do her job. And Under Secretary? If she had any designs on power, she would be the Minister herself.

“Is there something else you’d like to say, Dolores?” she asked, saccharine sweetness dripping from her voice. 

“You may be the Deputy Headmistress of this school, but I am the High Inquisitor. I report directly to the Minister himself, which means I outrank you. Speak to me like that again, and you will have to face consequences, Minerva.” She turned on a stubby heeled shoe and strode out of the room. 

McGonagall gave a heavy sigh as she sat down behind her desk. This was all spiraling quickly out of control. She shouldn’t have lost her temper, but Umbridge had crossed so many lines so long ago, she didn’t know what was going on anymore. But it was her duty as a teacher look after the wellbeing of her students, and that was more important than any rule. 

In an ideal world, she would animate the suits of armor in the castle and have them drop kick the foul woman out of the castle, but that would create more problems than it would solve. Taking direct action without any support would just get her fired, not to mention to disturbance it would cause to the lives of her students. Given enough time she could have come up with a plan, but there was a 4th year Transfiguration class coming in soon; she had to deal with that before plotting. 

It was when she was walking around the classroom correcting arm movements when it struck her like a thunderclap. She didn’t have to come up with a whole new plan of subversion when there were already two students in her House that were more than adept at it. She had already alluded to vague support of the misdeeds of the Weasley twins, but now the time had come for outright support. A rather manic grin slowly crept over her face uncontrollably. Suddenly, she was aware of the heavy silence in the room, the lack of any spell casting. 

“Excuse me, Professor,” Luna Lovegood said lightly. “Are you feeling alright? Is there a Wrackspurt bothering you?” 

“I’m sorry, a what?”

Luna looked up rather beatifically. “A Wrackspurt, Professor. They fly in through your ear and make your brain unfocused. You were looking… odd a moment ago.” 

McGonagall waved a hand. “If there was a Wrackspurt, it’s gone now. Thank you for your concern, Ms. Lovegood. You may all return to your work.” 

She retreated to her desk, only keeping a vague eye on the class as she flipped through the record book of all the Gryffindor students. She had to flip through several pages of disciplinary reports before she found the course schedule for Weasley, Fred and Weasley, George. They would be in Potions next period, which would make for a fun conversation. 

Once her classroom was empty, McGonagall practically ran down to the dungeon where Snape held his seventh year classes. Luck was on her side; he was there while there were only a few students in the room. Her presence here was unexpected, but she tried to act like she had completely legitimate business. 

“Minerva,” Professor Snape said, his voice oily. “How can I help you?”

“Ah Severus, I was hoping to have a quick word with the Weasley twins before class. It’s about a rather pressing disciplinary issue.”

An expression that could maybe be confused for glee flitten briefly across his face. “Of course Minerva.”

“Excellent, thank you.” 

She stepped back into the hallway in time to see Fred and George coming towards her.

“Misters Weasley,” she call out, laughing a bit as she saw them do a double take. “I need a brief word with you, please.” 

The three of them stepped into an empty classroom, lit with dim green light from the lake. McGonagall launched into her speech without preamble. “You have to have noticed that Umbridge is increasing her control over the school. The two of you have a tendency of running afoul of rules, but I’m not going to stop you anymore. Chaos is exactly what she needs right now. I will not sit back and watch her take over this school.”

“Professor,” Fred said slowly. “Are you giving us permission to break the rules?”

She nodded. “Anything you can do to disrupt her power grab. But you have to be careful; she’s bound to only get more severe in punishing wrongdoers. I’ll do what I can to keep her from you.”

“Why are you doing this?” asked George.

“The Ministry has no place in this school, trying to control knowledge. Fudge can sit in his office believing that Potter and Dumbledore are raving mad liars, but I’m not going to follow him off this cliff. If you and the other students can cause enough chaos, maybe they’ll get the message.” 

Fred and George leaned together and had a tense, whispered conversation, of which McGonagall heard none. 

“We’ll do it,” Fred declared. “We’ll try to keep our efforts focused on Umbridge and not disrupt you or any of the other professors too much.”

“And you have to try to protect us,” George added. “We’re all for causing trouble, but we won’t take the fall for you.”

McGonagall nodded. “I can tell her I’m overseeing your detention and keep her off your back. If you go to her class, there’s an excellent chance she’ll give you detention just for showing up. You have my permission to skip her class from now on. You’re welcome to come to my class during that time.”

“Thank you,” George said. 

“We have to go to Potions,” 

“Try to look properly chastised; Professor Snape is under the impression you’re in trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a mortal age since I last updated this, but I promise it isn't abandoned! College is hard and taking up all my time and brain power. This story will get finished, it's too much fun to not continue writing.


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